


Heavy is the Night

by Fanofthearts



Category: Holby City
Genre: Bernie is there, F/F, Grief/Mourning, No Dialogue, domestic angst and fluff, serena drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:46:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanofthearts/pseuds/Fanofthearts
Summary: Some days Serena gets drunk.





	Heavy is the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Iordio as always, thank you.
> 
> So I had this idea to write a story where Serena gets drunk and finds Bernie on a dating website and drunk messages her. This is not that story.

Bernie can now sense when it is going to happen, when the dark cloud that is always hanging on the horizon gets too close. When it all gets to be too much. She doesn’t consider herself a poetic person but when it comes to Serena she finds herself a stranger somedays. A woman who happily paints a wooden play house in the garden for their grand-niece, a woman who folds underwear and socks but yet can’t quite master the fitted sheet folding (she tries), someone who takes out the trash and takes pride in making sure the lawn is cut just so. Little things that she never paid attention to before, things that were never even a blip on her radar but now they glare shockingly in her mind. All because these are things that make Serena Campbell happy. 

Serena can be like the weather, most days she is luminous, brilliant like the sun, warm like the first day of spring, making everything green and bright. Other days, especially at night she can be a hot summer day, heady and wanton making Bernie yearn for something cool but never wanting the heat to leave her skin. Today though Bernie feels the darkness of winter creeping in. 

Serena’s movements are stiff, her shoulders tense and her eyes are hard. Although she smiles at Bernie across breakfast, it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. They are both off today and had planned to putter around the garden; its mid-April and Serena had wanted to weed one of the borders in the garden. Bernie had happily picked out some of her favorite flowers to plant and found Serena delighted by the fact that she was making the house her own after the past year. 

The small talk over the turning of the soil was forced, the sweet smell of spring stilled and hung heavy in air as they worked in silence by the fence. Bernie at Serena’s side during these times were enough, she knew what to expect. By lunchtime they had the bed replanted and marked out. Serena headed inside while Bernie finished putting the tools back in to the small wooden shed at the bottom of the garden. Leaving her slightly muddy shoes next to Serena’s on the little mat by the back door, she washed her hands at the sink. Her eyes flicked to Serena sitting at the table her fingers worrying the pendant at her neck. Her left hand lay flat on the table as her eyes stared off into nothingness.   
Going to the fridge Bernie pulled out leftovers from last night's supper, reheating them on the hob she placed a plate in front of Serena. She watched Serena discreetly while she read the paper. The brunette picked at the food putting only a bite or two into her mouth before pushing the plate back, leaving her glass of water untouched. She sat for a minute before sliding her chair back, it scraped loudly against the wooden floor. 

Bernie let out a shaky breath as she watched her girlfriend leave the room and head towards the stairs. Disposing of the remaining food she did the dishes before grabbing her tool kit out of the garage. The hand basin in the downstairs bath had been leaking for a little over a week. Serena had been after Bernie to fix it but things had been a bit hectic. A battered old brown bucket had been shoved under the sink in the meantime. Turning off the water to the sink, Bernie got to work. She had picked up plumbing from her mother’s brother when she was a kid. Proud of her handy work she had been able to find her way around a wrench for years. It took a few hours of tinkering and one quick trip down into town to Homebase but the sink was fixed. 

Just as she was trying the water and washing her hands she heard the door to the kitchen swing open. There was a banging of cupboards before the door swished shut again. Stepping into the empty kitchen she glance at the clock, rubbing her eyes she put away her toolbox, and scrubbed the bathroom. After putting on a load of laundry she made herself a sandwich for dinner, sitting in the quiet of the kitchen finishing the newspaper from lunchtime. 

As the sun was slowly setting out of sight beyond the acers in the back garden, Bernie locked up the house. Reaching into the fridge she grabbed a chilled bottle of water and turned the lights out. Climbing the stairs her eyes glanced up at the family portraits hanging on the wall the hodge podge of people who made up the Campbell-Wolfe family. Bernie smiled as her eyes caught the newest addition, her holding a squirmy Gwen with Serena looking at them, a laugh lighting up her face, her arm snugly around her waist.   
At the top of the stairs the door to their bedroom was ajar but Bernie ignored it, turning instead to the room down the hall. The door was closed firmly as Bernie let her knuckles grace the oak of the door before turning the knob. The room was dark only with the dying light of the day casting deep long shadows throughout it. 

It was bare of furniture, in its place were boxes; boxes of a life cut short. In the middle of it all sat Serena. She was in loose fitting sweats and Bernie’s old NHS hoodie, her hair a disarray from fingers running through it over and over. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks stained with tears. An empty bottle of shiraz sat pushed off to one side. She had a baby blanket spread on her lap and a photo album open. Around her was an open box filled with old toys, old memories. New memories never to be made. 

Bernie left the door open behind her and sat down near her, close but not touching. She pulled another half empty bottle of Shiraz from Serena’s shaking fingers. Setting it aside she opened the bottle of water and held it out to her. Steadying Serena’s hand she helped her drink. Slowly she pulled the bottle from her grasp, putting the lid back on she set it down before turning and taking Serena’s weight on her side. Her arms held her tight as a sob broke through, her tears splashing down on Elinor’s smiling face staring up at them. Her fingers slipped into her hair, her lips pressed to her forehead as she gently rocked them in the dark room. 

The first time Bernie had found Serena like this she had not handled it well, she wasn’t sure what to do. She had panicked and it had caused Serena to shut down, to push her away. Finding a completely wasted Serena crying in her dead daughter’s bedroom was something she wasn’t prepared for. 

The woman she met in France three years ago was different from the one who had walked away from Holby four months prior. She was lighter, more focused, more in control. Time had passed and things had got better but some days the storm was more powerful than her resilient partner. Today was one of those days. 

After a bit Bernie helped her up, half carrying Serena to their bed. No words were said as Bernie pressed two paracetamol into her hand and forced her to drink the rest of the water before tucking her into bed. After a quick visit to the bathroom Bernie slid under the covers, Serena pressed into her side. As the tears stained her neck her fingers wound through Serena’s hair. Brown eyes stared unseeing up at the ceiling, biting her lip to keep her own at bay. She took a deep breath and kissed Serena’s forehead, tomorrow would be a better day.


End file.
